


meld

by bonebo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Docking, Gentle Reyes?, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Like REALLY vague, M/M, but it's vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9376556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: The first time they come together--the first time that’s anything more than stolen kisses in shadowy halls, or lingering gazes and brushed fingertips when no one is watching--Jesse finds himself nervous.





	

The first time they come together--the first time that’s anything more than stolen kisses in shadowy halls, or lingering gazes and brushed fingertips when no one is watching--Jesse finds himself nervous.

It’s not that he doesn’t want it. He’s wanted to touch Gabriel, kiss him, learn his body, for years now; explore what they both feel and want without the ever-present threat of someone peering over his shoulder, of being caught. So when he’s led back to Gabriel’s quarters and then pushed back against the door, with Gabriel’s hands stripping off his clothes and Gabriel’s mouth stealing the breath from his lungs, he indulges himself in the taste of Gabriel’s tongue and the feeling of his heat, the bulk of his body, so close. He runs his hands down the hard curves of Gabriel’s muscled torso, feels out every puckered scar and ridge of toned muscle; then his hands smooth over the softer give of his hips, grab at the meat of his fat ass, squeeze until Gabriel moans against his mouth. They stumble over to the bed like they’re drunk, and it takes Gabriel forcibly shoving him, muttering into the space where their breath mingles, to get Jesse to break away. 

“On the bed,” Gabriel says, breathless and pointing; and Jesse walks backward to it, just so he doesn’t have to miss the sight of Gabriel shucking off his BDUs. He drops heavily onto the bed and stares as his commander strips down, finds his eyes drawn to the half-hard cock that bobs between Gabriel’s muscular, hairy thighs, the shiny tip already starting to peek out from his meaty foreskin.

Jesse has to bite his lip to keep in a whine of desire.. 

But he’s still nervous.

Gabriel moves toward him, crossing the room in a few wide strides--all Jesse can think of is that it matches the stalk of a predator, the prowl of a creature hunting down prey. He shimmies backward as soon as Gabriel reaches the bedside and it’s still not fast enough; because he blinks and suddenly Gabriel is all he can see, all he can feel, his muscle and might radiating warmth and solidity from where he holds himself on all fours over Jesse.

“Get your clothes off.” Gabriel reaches out like he might help, his fingertips trailing over the button on Jesse’s jeans; but then he pulls his hand back again, sets it down heavily by Jesse’s ear instead. Jesse’s cock surges against the confines of his pants, and he swallows down the urge to plead for Gabriel’s hands on him. 

“Hurry up, ingrate.”

“R-right.” Jesse scrambles with his clothes--pushes his jeans and underwear off like they’re burning him, all but tears his shirt in his haste to pull it free--and when he’s naked, lying fully bared under his commander with those dark eyes roaming his body, assessing him, he has to swallow hard to rid himself of the unpleasant knot coiling in his belly.

It’s not like he hasn’t done this before.

In Deadlock there were practices. Customs he’d come to accept, if not agree with. There were things people did just because they could, because they had the rank or the muscle to; and at seventeen there was little Jesse could do but take it, put his head down and endure. He can’t help but remember it now, when it’s so similar, yet entirely different--because this is his Commander, he tells himself. This is Gabriel, and he’d never hurt Jesse, never hold him down and force him, never press his face into the pillows to keep him quiet and make him bleed--

“Jessito.” 

He looks up sharply at the voice, catches Gabriel’s gaze; there’s concern there, a creasing of Gabriel’s brows that makes Jesse feel sick. Did he already fuck it up? Did he get so lost in his head that he didn’t hear Gabriel tell him to forget about this, to get out of his room, to never speak of this or them again?

Jesse swallows, licks his lips, tries to catch his breath. It feels like something heavy is sitting on his chest, crushing his heart, and he can’t seem to find it to pry it off. “...sir?”

Gabriel frowns. “You’re shaking.” 

Jesse looks down at his hands, and--so he is. His fingers jitter and twitch like he’s had ten cups of Blackwatch’s notorious coffee and a whole pack of cheap cigarettes. He curls his hands into white-knuckled fists and forces himself to look up at Gabriel again, mouth open, already trying to come up with some kind of answer to the unasked question.

If he lost this--lost Gabriel--he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

But right as he starts to speak, draws a breath, Gabriel’s hand is there--laid over his mouth with a kind of casual authority that has Jesse’s cock jumping, despite his lingering nerves. He stares at his Commander with wide eyes, sure that Gabriel can feel his pulse racing under his skin; and the hand over his mouth does nothing to stifle his moan when he feels thick, calloused fingers brushing over the tip of his cock, hidden snugly away in his foreskin.

“You think too much,” Gabriel says, glancing down between them and admiring the curve of Jesse’s sleek length; his fingers skim down the side of the pulsing shaft, rub against the furry swell of Jesse’s balls lightly. “Just listen to me, and focus on feeling, instead.”

Jesse sighs through his nose, so lost in the pleasurable feeling of Gabriel rubbing at him that he almost forgets to nod. But when he does he hears Gabriel’s soft noise of amusement, and huffs out one of his own as he’s moved, rolled onto his side to face Gabriel and pulled in close enough to nuzzle at the broad expanse of his chest.

It’s different, now. 

“Let me take care of you,” Gabriel says, and Jesse nods--like it matters, like he’d ever deny Gabriel anything. His hips buck forward when a warm hand closes around his cock, and he looks down in time to see Gabriel’s own nudging against him, their tips sliding slickly together and smearing pre-cum over everything.

“F-fuck,” Jesse chokes out, staring--because it looks as hot as it feels, the wet glide of Gabriel’s tip against his own, the way the hood of his foreskin occasionally catches over the head of Jesse’s cock. He swallows hard and grabs at Gabriel’s shoulder, fingers digging in when Gabriel pulls his foreskin back and lines them up, pressed tip to tip.

It’s obscene--Gabriel’s meaty cock, fat and throbbing, kissed up against Jesse’s own slender, hard length. Jesse can feel the soft whimpers leaving his throat, but doesn’t really register making the noise; especially not when Gabriel rolls his foreskin back down, traps the tip of Jesse’s cock within its warm confines, holds it there in that silky slick place with his fingers.

Jesse buries his face against Gabriel’s chest to moan, hips stuttering forward helplessly. It’s unlike anything he’s felt before; a hot clinging clutch around the tip of his shaft, feeling sinfully intimate and good enough to make his toes curl. He can hear Gabriel talking again, but it sounds distant, like he’s a million miles away. Jesse nestles up closer to him in an attempt to hear him, to hang on to every word.

It feels, inexplicably, surreal.

Because he’s never done this--any of this, the intimacy, the closeness--before, and as he stares down between their sweaty bodies, watches the slow, slick glide of Gabriel’s hand around where they join, he finds himself nodding along to Gabriel’s murmured words with a mindless sort of fervor. 

“See? It’s good, isn’t it?” Gabriel squeezes his fingers a little tighter, and Jesse whimpers at the feeling, at the velvety warmth hugging snug and slick around his cock. He could swear he’s half a second away from cumming, and bites his lip, trying to hold out--to make the sensation, the affection, last.

“Y-yeah,” he croaks, pressing his face into Gabriel’s shoulder to breathe in the smell of him, taste the salt of his sweat against his parted lips; his hips buck forward in short, jerky thrusts, borne entirely of his building hunger to seat himself deeper in that snug warmth, bury himself as close as he can get to Gabriel. He’s stopped by a palm pressing against his hipbone.

“Ah--hey, wait. No.” Gabriel’s hand tightens again, and McCree whimpers at the faint pain of it, the sharp hint of nail against sensitive flesh. His eyes fly open to meet Gabriel’s own, searching, his heart skipping a beat at the frown on Gabriel’s face; nervousness hits him headlong, but then Gabriel’s grip relaxes, his fingers rubbing along where their cocks connect in an almost apologetic sort of way.

“Just...keep your hips still,” Gabriel mutters, looking back down between them like he can’t face Jesse; there’s a faint hint of color bloomed across his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose. His voice is a little breathless as he adds, “Just let me do this.”

Jesse stares at him, swallows, nods; he lays his head back down and closes his eyes, and gives himself over to whatever Gabriel has planned.


End file.
